Birth Right
by My.Sweet.Obessions
Summary: /Sequel to Coming Home/ Earth isn't at all what Melody expected. What started out as a fresh start slowly warped into a nightmare. Now, after the battle between the grounders and the 100, she's lost; in more ways than one. And the worst part is, the one person who can find her -and make her find herself- doesn't even know where to start looking.
1. Chapter 1

I, of course, do not own The 100 or any of the characters. The plotlines in this story will heavily follows those from the show. All rights to the creators.

" _To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never to forget."_

― Arundhati Roy

 **Chapter One**

It had been six days since she'd left camp.

Six days that had been spent running fast and running far in order to put as much distance between herself and the battle as possible. Six days since Bellamy had gripped her tightly by the shoulders and shouted, " _Run._ " Six days of wandering aimlessly through the unfamiliar and overgrown forest that stretched as far as the eye could see. Six days of total solitude, unless you counted the friendly voices in her head. Six days of barely surviving.

That's all she was doing now; surviving.

How could she truly live when there was nothing left to live _for_? Everything and everyone that she cared about had gone up in flames along with the camp. Those who had managed to survive Raven's ring of death had been picked off by the grounders, or worse. They had known all along that it was only a matter of time before The 100 ceased to exist at all. They'd been fighting a losing war from the beginning.

And with the death of the 100 came the death of everything that was Melody Pond.

The girl trudging along the forest floor would hardly have been recognizable to those she left behind. Tangled red hair fanned out down her back and across her shoulders in a wild, untamable manner. The clothes she wore were caked with six days' worth of grime and blood and were plastered to her skin by long-dried sweat. In her hand was a wooden bow –scavenged from the ruins of the camp and shoddily mended with a red hair ribbon- that she held pointed towards the ground, arrow already nocked and string drawn taut. The look in her green eyes was far too empty to be considered anything less than lifeless. Melody's body might have survived the battle, but her spirithad been left behind and remained smoldering in the ashes of all she'd lost.

She'd held out hope in the beginning.

Or she'd tried to, at least.

That first night, after the battle, it had been chaotic. She'd run through the forest without looking back, afraid of staying but even more afraid of leaving. Several times she'd almost started back, stopped only by Bellamy's words of reassurance echoing in her mind.

" _You won't lose me."_ He'd said firmly.

But she had.

" _Dawn. I'll be waiting for you."_

But he wasn't.

When dawn broke and Melody was left standing there amid a sea of charred bodies, the last ounce of hope had left her body. The dropship was empty. Clarke, Jasper, Raven, Miller…everyone who had gone into it for safety, they were all gone. Bellamy was nowhere to be seen, and although she spent hours waiting for him, he never did show.

Melody knew what that meant.

And yet, she carried on.

Mainly because she refused to let the sacrifice that her friends had made be for naught. They had all fought bravely in an attempt to earn their place in this crazy world and they had died with honor; _no one_ could take that away from them. Melody wouldn't tarnish their memory by giving up so soon. To do so would be an act of ultimate betrayal and if Melody was anything, she was loyal, almost to a fault.

Although death, even by her own hand, would have been far easier and less painful than living in a world as unpredictable and dangerous and _lonely_ as the one she currently found herself in, Melody Pond was not the type of girl to take the easy way out. If for no reason other than pure stubbornness, she was determined to fight tooth and nail to make her way in this world, which was just as much hers as it was anyone else's. Whether they liked it or not, Earth was her birthright.

And Melody was going to claim it as such, no matter the cost.

|oOoOoOo|

It seemed like the days were getting shorter now.

As Melody stared up at the rapidly-sinking sun, the ghost of a frown flickered across her face and uneasiness began to slowly creep up on her. It was already the end of her sixth day and what did she have to show for it? An incredibly sunburnt face, half of a mutated rabbit that she had shot the morning before, and an incredibly bad attitude.

The old saying _Rome wasn't built in a day_ came to mind, but it did little to ease her worry. Melody's more rational side knew that starting from scratch wasn't going to be easy, but her impatient side demanded that she begin making progress. Six days. _Six. Days._ They'd built their entire camp in about that much time, _walls and all._ So far, casa de Melody was a huge disappointment.

With a heavy sigh, Melody tore her gaze away from the skies and focused on the area around her. When leaving Bellamy, she hadn't thought to go anywhere but _away._ Away from camp, away from the place where the grounders resided, away from everything she knew. If she'd been in this part of the forest before, she certainly didn't remember it and therefore, had no idea what lay ahead. But whatever it was, it had to be better than what she had left behind her.

The forest was overgrown and dense in most places now. Melody walked with her knife held high above her head, slashing through dangling vines and an abundance of vegetation. The trees were so thick in places that it was hard to see through them. The leaves overhead made a dark canopy, allowing very little light to stream through. Untouched by man for decades, the forest thrived in a beautiful, unkempt way that Melody had always appreciated. It almost pained her to alter even something as insignificant as the overgrown vines, but she had to do what she had to do. Survival was key.

Even after six days, it all felt so surreal. Day after day Melody trudged along on her unmarked path searching for the unknown, half-hoping that she would somehow wander upon camp and find everyone standing there, waiting for it. She'd forgotten just how _loud_ the silence could be when there was nobody else to fill it. She had underestimated the toll that her own thoughts could take on her mind. Above all, she had never realized how terrifying the darkness was with no light at the end of the tunnel.

"Goddamn trees." Muttered Melody, her voice cracking as she spoke for what had to have been the first time in hours. The shadow of irritation had crossed over her features as she hacked her way through the area. Just how much overgrowth could there be?

The answer was _a lot._ It felt like she'd been cutting her way through the forest for ages before she finally came to a clearing. The sun was sinking beyond the horizon, illuminating the sky with various shades of orange and pink. Melody could hear the first sounds of the crickets beginning to chirp, and she knew that it wouldn't be too long before the rest of the forest's night life came alive. Her only goal before then was to have started a fire. Without one, she would be lucky to make it till morning. Hell, _with one_ she would be lucky to make it till morning. The odds never seemed to be in her favor.

The first lesson anyone had learned on earth was fire starting 101. It was one of the most basic survival skills and one that could make all the difference in the world. Melody had long ago mastered this particular skill, and her blistered fingers seemed to work on their own accord as they dragged various sticks and brush into a pile near the edge of the clearing. Matches were a luxury she couldn't afford, and so she had to start her fire the old fashioned way; by rubbing two sticks together. A process that was simple, but lengthy. And time was another luxury that Melody just couldn't afford.

By the time the sun was completely hidden from view Melody's fire was blazing, glowing a brilliant shade of orange. She sat close to it, staring into the brightly burning flames while slowly rotating a stick holding the other half of her rabbit near the outer edge of the fire. The forest was quiet, aside from the occasional chirping of the crickets and the birds -owls, maybe- as well as the rustling of leaves as some of the smaller animals scampered through the woods. Melody tried to keep her attention focused on the task at hand, but it was easier said than done when she had seen so many of the dangers that lurked in these woods.

Dinner was a solemn event. Sat cross-legged around her small fire, Melody ate mechanically, eyes staring off into the distance –looking, but not seeing- while her fingers and teeth made quick work of the rabbit leg. She'd never quite mastered the concept of cooking over an open fire, and so the meat was burnt in some places and barely cooked in others. None of it mattered to Melody, who ate her meal without hardly registering taste, or anything else for that matter.

When the bone had been picked clean she tossed it into the fire, charring the remains in hopes that the hungry beats prowling the woods would look elsewhere for their dinner. She'd learned the hard way that leaving half-eaten morsels lying around was not a safe idea. There were four jagged slash marks across her left shoulder that could attest to what happened when one went head-to-head with a hungry, irritable jungle cat. She'd almost become dinner, and would have if she hadn't been sleeping with her knife clutched tightly in one hand, a heavy rock in the other.

That was the last time she'd dared sleeping on the ground.

Although truth be told, _sleeping_ was an optional word. It wasn't very often that Melody got even a few hours of sleep. The only 'sleep' she experienced came when she couldn't find the energy to hold her swollen eyelids open any longer. That was when darkness was allowed to overcome her, and the nightmares were free to reign terror over her sub consciousness. It never lasted for more than a few minutes before she was awake once more, typically shaking and sobbing.

Despite being exhausted, both physically _and_ mentally, Melody continued to sit there in front of the fire for a long, long time. She sat too close, close enough to feel the heat beginning to scorch her skin, but Melody seemed indifferent. She reveled in the warmth that the fire produced. She welcomed the distraction provided by the flickering flames.

The hardest part about being alone was the silence; too much silence and her mind began to wander. Melody tried to occupy herself by quietly singing or humming along to any and all of the old songs that she remembered hearing over the PA systems in Factory Station during assembly hours. A lot of what she remembered were wordless compositions, classical music that was supposed to promote peace and productivity in the factory. A few songs were ones that her mother had instilled upon her, childhood lullabies and other simple melodies.

It helped, but ultimately the silence always crept back in.

And when that happened, it was time for bed.

As Melody maneuvered her way up a particularly sound-looking tree, she reflected –not for the first time- on how much she'd grown over these last few months. Emotionally, mentally, _and_ physically. The girl she'd been in the beginning, the one who had first stepped foot on Earth, would never have been able to lift herself up into the branches of _any_ tree. Even if she'd had the strength, she certainly wouldn't have had the confidence in herself.

Now, Melody climbed up the tree quickly and smoothly, her footing precise and her grip firm. The bark was rough against her hands, but these were no longer the hands of a dainty little girl; they were a woman's hands, soft but calloused and used to hard work. When at last she reached a suitable limb that she was sure would hold her weight, Melody stopped and rested with her back pressed against the trunk of the tree, her legs dangling over each side of the long branch.

She hung her bow from a thick offshoot above her head, far enough away that it was safely nestled among a bed of branches, but close enough that it was within arms' reach in case something happened in the middle of the night and she needed to defend herself. Her small knapsack –singed and covered in soot; a trophy from the ruins of the battle- hung similarly beside the bow. To seclude it all from view, Melody bent nearby branches around the bow and the bag, weaving them together until everything was covered from the outside world by a canopy of green.

You could never be too careful.

Once the nightly routine of making camp among the branches was complete, there was nothing else to keep Melody busy. She was faced with darkness, silence, and the inner workings of her own mind.

"Time for bed." She murmured.

She reached into the innermost pocket of her jacket and pulled out a thick ball made out of a vine that she'd cut down earlier in the day. She looped one end of the vine around the tree limb, tying it twice with a double knot to ensure that it was anchored. The other end of the vine she worked through the belt loops of her jeans, securing it around her waist so that, in the event of falling asleep this high up, she wouldn't have to worry about rolling off of the limb and falling fifty feet to her death.

With nothing left to occupy her hands, Melody lowered herself until she was lying flat on her back, staring up at the starry night sky. She reached back and tucked her hair into the hood of her green army jacket; the brightness of her hair was so out of place in the forest that there was no disguising it, so she had no choice but to hide it. Besides, it made a decent pillow.

Faced now with nothing but the dimly-lit night sky and the sounds of the forest –more ominous than peaceful-, Melody let out a soft sigh. She closed her eyes, greatly preferring her own brand of darkness to the darkness of the forest. It felt safer, somehow. She

 _Day six_ ✓

She mentally checked the sixth day off. Six days down, a lifetime to go. Most likely a very short lifetime, considering the odds, but a lifetime nonetheless.

In all honesty, Melody didn't know how much more of this she could take. The silence. The loneliness. The hostile surroundings. The feeling of helplessness that washed over her every time she even dared to think about all of the changes that this last week had brought. The utter heartbreak that she was barely managing to keep at bay. The loss of purpose. The feeling of utmost incompletion, as if a part of her very soul had been ripped away.

When the sun came up, Melody went numb to it all. Survival mode kicked in, and she found herself doing any and everything that she had to do in order to stay alive. During those hours she became a shell of person; a robot, almost, moving mechanically, acting on instinct, drifting through life without ever really being conscious of what was happening.

But when the sun went down…

That's when the emotions she spent all of her time repressing came back, stronger than before. Each night she re-lived her worst memories –the memories of the 100's final stand- and each night she was left to face the aftermath of it all, _alone_. Somehow, it hurt more now than it had when the wounds were fresh. The sense of loss sometimes buckled her knees and took her breath away. More often than not, it left her trembling and teary-eyed.

Every night, their faces haunted her dreams. Young, bright, and full of life.

Jasper, Monty, Clarke, Finn, Raven, Octavia…Bellamy.

And every night, she was left reflecting upon what the world had lost when it lost each member of her broken little family.

Jasper, with his mischievous spirit and his courageous soul.

Monty, with his incredible genius and his gentle heart.

Clarke, with her need to save everyone and her relentless drive to get things done.

Finn, with his frustratingly logical ideas and his peacekeeper ways.

Raven, with her gifted hands and her unfathomable resilience.

Octavia, with her stubbornness and desire to prove herself.

Bellamy…

Bellamy, had a little bit of _everything_ to offer.

There was a mischievous glint that lit up his eyes when it was just the two of them, alone together. There was courage in his soul, shown in the way he led his people. Genius, maybe not, but he was the one who'd planned out and strategized every attack they'd ever made. His gentle heart shone through every time he looked at Octavia, with love and adoration. He tried to save everyone; he'd tried to save Charlotte, he'd tried to save Melody, he'd tried to save them all. His drive, although it came off as pushy and bossy and impatient, was relentless in its being. He was logical, most often when he detached himself emotionally from the situation. And he was a peacekeeper when they needed it most.

His hands were gifted; maybe not in the same sense as Raven, but they were strong and well-worked and they'd spent hours crafting one of the best recurve bows in all of existence. As for his resilience, well, he bounced back easily and was always ready to go again. Stubbornness was a Blake family trait, and Melody had argued with him enough times to know that he almost never backed down. He'd never once stopped trying to prove himself, not since the very first moment they'd set foot on Earth and he'd announced himself their self-appointed leader.

 _They lost a good one with him,_ thought Melody to herself.

The words ' _and so did I_ ' came to mind, but she quickly pushed them away.

The tears started then, after she'd gone through the list of her most beloved casualties of war. Each and every face flickered through her mind –some more than others- as she lay there, lower lip trembling while wordless sobs wracked her chest. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, blocking out the rest of the world as Melody lost herself in her own grief.

It was a nightly ritual. She'd think, she'd cry, and after several hours –when her eyes were swollen and burning and she couldn't keep them open any longer- she would drift off into unconsciousness, only to be awoken again by the nightmares that plagued her sleep.

Sometime, as she lay there thrashing and moaning and fighting her way through the hellish maze that was the confines of her own mind, the sun began to rise once more.

It was the end of the first week.

But only the beginning of the rest of her life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The last twelve hours had been agonizing.

Impatient and growing more so by the second, Bellamy paced back and forth among the ruins of what had once been Alpha station. Debris littered the ground beneath his feet, a result of the station's rough landing on Earth. Buried beneath layers of dirt, soot, scrap metal, and foliage was the remains of what had surely once been a fully-furnished room. Most of the objects were unidentifiable; nothing more than mangled bits of their former selves. Stripped wires stuck out in various places across the room, emerging between the broken panels of the walls and ceiling, hanging dangerously low overhead.

To look at this room, no one would ever guess that it had once been a part of the most prestigious of the Ark stations. Plant life had already begun to grow through the cracks in the walls, vines of ivy taking over as easily as if they'd been there all along. In five, ten, fifteen years there would be no evidence that the Ark ever was.

The Earth would reclaim it, just as it reclaimed everything else.

Despite the fact that it was all barely held together by four beaten-up walls, the vacant room was one of the few left that possessed an air-lock. Thus, it had been deemed his holding cell.

Over the course of the last day and a half since finding what remained of the people of the Ark, Bellamy had been re-criminalized. And of all the crimes he could have committed, they'd gotten him on _assault._ Not even the assault of a somewhat decent person. He hadn't attacked a guard or an official or any of the citizens of the Ark. No, Bellamy was being detained because he'd come face to face with John Murphy for the first time since his near-hanging. He was being detained because he'd been unable to stop himself from acting on impulse.

 _I should have killed him when I had the chance_ , thought Bellamy bitterly.

If it wasn't for Murphy, he wouldn't be locked up in this damn cell. He could be out there, doing something important. Looking for his friends. Looking for _Melody._

The sound of the door opening pulled Bellamy away from his thoughts.

In strolled Marcus Kane – _Chancellor_ Marcus Kane- in all of his arrogant glory. There was something about the older man that made Bellamy's blood boil. It was something in the way he looked down on him, Bellamy, and the rest of what remained of the 100. The way he treated them, like they were nothing more than useless children that hadn't spent the better part of the last few months fighting just to stay alive. The way he acted, as if he knew _everything_ there was to know about life on Earth when in all reality he knew jack shit.

"How long are you gonna keep me locked up in here?" Asked Bellamy, voice clipped and full of barely-contained impatience.

Until I'm confident you're no longer a threat to others." Replied the Chancellor easily. He pulled up a chair that had been pushed off to the side and sat down. "Let's continue."

Bellamy bristled.

He was sick of being asked the same questions. He was sick of giving the same answers. He was sick of being stuck in this godforsaken cell. He was sick of reliving the past. And he was sick of wasting valuable time; time that they didn't have.

"Now," Continued Kane, "You said there were hundreds of Grounders attacking. Two hundred? Three hundred?"

"I didn't count."

"Why do you think they attacked?" Pressed Kane, either oblivious to Bellamy's reluctance to cooperate or unbothered by it. "What provoked them?"

"We were here. That was enough."

Bellamy was through answering questions, and he was through pretending like this was all okay.

"We're wasting time!" He continued, without pausing to give the Chancellor time to ask any more of this nonsensical questions. As if any of it mattered anyways "The others didn't just vanish into thin air. They were _taken_ , and we need to go after them."

He thought of Clarke, in the dropship. He thought of her ring of fire.

Bellamy knew that it had worked. He'd seen the flames and he'd felt the heat chasing after him as he'd escaped into the woods with Melody slung over his shoulder. They'd just barely made it out in time. A few more moments, and they would have been as unrecognizable as the hundreds of scorched bodies –nothing left but bones- that littered the ground of their old camp.

What he didn't know was what had happened to all of the people in the dropship.

When he'd gone back - a day or two after the attack, when he'd finally evaded the grounders that had been hot on his trail- there had been no sign of life. The camp was in ruins, the dropship empty, the entirety of his people gone. Bellamy knew that they wouldn't just up and leave camp, not after working so hard to fortify and protect it.

They'd been taken; he was _sure_ of it. Dozens of people didn't just up and vanish. And Bellamy was positive that Clarke would never uproot them, especially not so soon after an attack and not without first making sure every remaining member of their camp had time to make it safely home.

"A search team is prepping to leave." Said Kane. "But notbefore we get the intel we need from you."

Bellamy's head snapped up.

 _A search team is prepping to leave._

He moved forward slowly and took the seat opposite Kane, looking over at the Chancellor pleadingly. "I need to be on that team. _Please._ "

"That's out of the question." Kane was gentle, but firm. "You're not trained. It's too dangerous."

Bellamy let out a sharp sound, a mixture between a huff and a sigh. "Those are _my_ people out there."

Kane leaned in intently, his voice dropping an octave. "They're my people, too."

But they weren't. Not in the way that they were Bellamy's.

Kane didn't _know_ them. He wasn't the one who had spent the last few months leading them. He hadn't been responsible for providing for them. Protecting them. Keeping them happy and as comfortable as possible, given the circumstances. He wasn't the one that had had to watch helplessly as they were picked off one by one. He hadn't seen their tears. He hadn't heard their screams. He'd never had to watch the light die from their eyes as the life was drained from their bodies.

He had no claim on the 100, or what was left of it.

"You want to help them?" The Chancellor's question was rhetorical. "Tell me what we're up against...Grounder tactics. Their numbers. The kind of weapons they used."

Bellamy paused. He looked over at Kane, hating everything about the man but also knowing that if there was any hope at all of finding _his_ people, it rested with the newly-appointed Chancellor. What could Bellamy do, other than help him and hope for the best?

"Arrows and spears." He sighed, defeated. "Axes. Swords. Their teeth."

"No guns?" Asked Kane.

Bellamy shook his head shortly.

" _You_ had guns."

"The guns we found at the aid depot leveled the playing field. And maybe, maybe if we'd had more bullets, we could have-"

"There _were_ more bullets." Interrupted Kane.

Bellamy looked over at him, waiting.

"Search team just returned from the bunker. They found two more barrels full of rifles and a

third filled with bullets."

Bellamy's heart sank at the news. If only they'd known that the guns had been there. If only they'd found the extra bullets, and hadn't had to rely on their small stockpile. If only they'd spent a little while looking through what they'd automatically assumed were duds.

If only, if only, if only.

"We should have looked harder." He admitted, shaking his head slightly.

Bellamy only had a few moments to bathe in sorrow before the doors were opening once more. In strolled two guards; a big, burly man and a lean blonde woman. In between them, held tightly by the arms, was another prisoner; _Murphy._

Beaten up and bloodied, Murphy slouched between the two guards. His hands were bound in front of him with a thin coil of wire Those familiar beady eyes met Bellamy's and they seemed to taunt him. What had once been a sort of comradery between the two of them had been replaced with a loathing unlike no other.

"What the hell is _he_ doing here?" Bellamy was on his feet at once, glowering in Murphy's direction.

"Excuse me, sir." The blonde guard looked directly at Kane, completely ignoring Bellamy's presence in the room, along with his question. "Dr. Griffin cleared Mr. Murphy out of medical."

Kane and Bellamy exchanged a glance.

There was no mistaking Bellamy's annoyed disbelief. His body language conveyed it perfectly; head cocked to one side, eyebrows raised slightly, shoulders sagged. Kane glanced at him for a long moment, appearing almost sympathetic, before he looked away.

"Put him over there, Major Byrne." Ordered Kane, nodding towards an open space on the floor.

The blonde guard moved Murphy forward.

The other guard approached Bellamy. "On your knees. Come on." He ordered, placing one hand roughly on Bellamy's shoulder.

When Bellamy was on the ground, the guard produced another roll of wire. He wrapped it thickly around Bellamy's bound wrists and secured it to a notch in the wall that Bellamy was sitting against. On the opposite side of the room, the blonde guard did the same with Murphy's rope. In the end both boys were detained, a few feet separating them.

"Well, this should be fun." Murphy muttered.

Kane glanced knowingly between the two of them.

Bellamy was going to open his mouth to complain, but before anyone could say anything else, the sound of gunshots echoed throughout the room. The three officials exchanged surprised looks. Then, they were running out the doors, guns raised and shouting orders to the workers that littered the hallways outside of the holding cell. The doors closed and sealed themselves shut behind the guards, leaving the two boys alone.

"Well, that doesn't sound good." Murphy glanced over at Bellamy.

"Piss off, Murphy." Bellamy wasn't in any mood to entertain the traitorous asshole that sat across from him.

"Come on, Bellamy." Murphy drawled. "You know what they say about bygones; let them be bygones."

"We tried that once, remember?"

Bellamy recalled the day Murphy had shown up outside of camp, a bloody quivering mess. He'd come into the camp with a grounder-made sickness that infected just about everyone. It was biological warfare; a way to incapacitate them so that the grounders could easily wipe them all out. It hadn't worked that way, thankfully, but none of that mattered now.

What _did_ matter was the fact that they'd spared Murphy. They'd accepted him into their camp, they'd nursed him back to health, and then he'd turned on them again. He'd tried to kill Bellamy, and _that_ was something that could never be forgotten or forgiven. Kane could shack them up together all day long, but it didn't quench the desire that Bellamy had to settle things between him and Murphy once for all.

"Don't kid yourself. The only reason you even let me into camp was because you wanted to get information out of me." Murphy reminded him. "As soon as you didn't need me anymore, you were going to kill me."

"We weren't. We were going to banish you."

"Because that's so different?" Murphy laughed bitterly. "Leaving me for the grounders. What a _mercy._ "

"If I had it my way, there wouldn't be anything left of you to leave." Said Bellamy darkly.

"Your way? Who are you kidding, Bellamy?" Murphy rolled his beady eyes heavenwards. "It hasn't been _your_ way for a long time."

" _Excuse me_?"

"Oh, come _on._ " Murphy gave him a pointed look. "You've never been the one in charge. It was always _her._ "

"Clarke?" He scowled, not following the conversation.

He and Clarke had always had a partnership; they did things together. Fifty-fifty. Just like it was supposed to be. They made their decisions _together._ There was no his way or her way; it was _their_ way. Sometimes the lines blurred a little bit and the two of them didn't always agree, but as far as Bellamy was concerned neither one of them had ever been more 'in charge' than the other.

"No, not _Clarke_."

Bellamy tensed, finally catching onto all of Murphy's babble.

" _Melody;_ your psychotic little queen."

"Don't you talk about her like that." He snapped, his voice little more than a defensive growl. "In fact, don't you talk about her _at all._ "

"Or what?" Murphy arched a brow defiantly. "You'll kill me? A bit tied up there, Blake, don't you think?"

"Funny." Bellamy said simply.

Murphy gave a half-assed shrug. "I thought so."

"Do me a favor Murphy and shut the hell up."

"Hey I'm just trying to pass the time." Murphy raised his bound hands defensively.

"Yeah? Well, don't."

Murphy stopped talking. He seemed to sense that he had pushed Bellamy's buttons far enough…after all, they wouldn't be detained forever.

Instead of passing the time with small talk, he began to hum.

Loudly. Off-key. And with all the enthusiasm in the world.

Bellamy let out a heavy sigh. His head lolled back until it hit the wall, and he allowed his eyes to slip shut.

It was going to be a long day…

|oOoOoOo|

 _Now that we've got a little bit of insight into both Melody and Bellamy's lives on their own, the_ _ **real**_ _fun will begin. I promise much longer chapters than this, with more action as the story unfolds. These first two chapters were mainly little 'filler' chapters to establish what's happened since we last saw our two heroes. There was too much for a prologue, but too little for chapters of real substance._

 _Now, let the story begin._


	3. Chapter 3

[3]

"Up."

A boot connected with Melody's side, stealing her breath away and sending her rolling across the forest floor. Twigs and rocks scraped at her face and her palms, dirt and leaves collected in her already matted hair. The ground beneath her was damp, but not soft. She landed hard on her back and cried out sharply, pain assaulting her from all sides and dotting her vision with black.

" _Ugh._ " Melody rolled away and clutched her aching side. The pain shooting up and down her spine left her unable to do anything other than writhe.

 _Grounders,_ she thought. _They've found me._

The world swam before her eyes, the pain dizzying. Each breath felt tight in her chest, trapped. She didn't know whether it was fear or pain that paralyzed her.

"I said," A large hand grasped a fistful of her orange hair. " _Up._ "

Melody was wrenched upwards, a strangled moan leaving her lips. Her hands left her side to grab at the hands that were entwined in her hair. She felt warm, rough fingers against her scalp. Her assailant tightened their grip in her hair and dragged Melody onto her knees. Pain prickled her scalp uncomfortably, hair being pulled out, but this time she didn't cry out. She bit down hard on her bottom lip until she tasted blood. Teary eyes looked up into the face of her attacker, and Melody gasped.

A slow smile spread across the grounder's face as he bent down to her height.

"Miss me?"

It was the grounder from the forest, the one that had split her open from brow to jawbone. The one that she'd shot in the knees and left for dead. Miraculously, he was standing. A little unevenly, but standing nonetheless. It had been what, a week? Two? Not nearly a long enough recovery time for something like two arrows to the knees. The grounders were resilient, Melody would give them that much.

But so was she.

A flicker of emotion. _Anger._ Melody mustered up what little strength she had left and used it to spit on the grounder's boot. Had she been taller, she would have spit in his face. "Go to hell."

"Now, now." The grounder tsked and wiped his boot against the grass. His words were accompanied by a sharp tug to her hair, which snapped Melody's head back and made her curse. "Is that any way to treat an old friend?"

"You are _not_ my friend."

"An old acquaintance, then."

" _Go to hell._ " She repeated coldly.

"One day, perhaps." Mused the grounder with a shrug. "But that day is not today."

He pulled Melody to her feet and gave her a shove towards his waiting horse.

"Walk." He commanded simply.

She swayed and stumbled, her whole body still sore. It felt like she had a stitch in her side; the kind you get after running for too long. Only the ache never dulled or went away. She wouldn't be surprised if she had bruised, maybe even _cracked_ ribs from the kick he'd given her. That, paired with the pain in her back from landing on it, slowed Melody down. So did the fact that she was dragging her feet.

"Where are you taking me?" She asked over her shoulder.

The grounder didn't answer.

Why was he taking her with him? Why wasn't he killing her right then and there? Melody wasn't foolish enough to believe that he was going to spare her life. Grounders didn't know compassion. Whatever he was taking her _for_ , it had be worse than death. There was no other explanation that she could think of to make sense of the grounder not seeking vengeance.

"If you're going to kill me, just kill me." Melody was impatient. She didn't like not knowing. She didn't like waiting, not even for her own death. The uncertainty of it all frightened her more than the prospect of getting killed.

"I'm not going to kill you." The grounder said. "The battle is over, and I'm not a murderer."

 _No,_ thought Melody bitterly. _Not a murderer. Just a sadist prone to torture._

"If that's your mentality, why did I wake up to your boot in my ribs and your hands in my hair?"

"Safety measure." He shrugged. "I figured I might as well kick you while you were down and _keep you_ down. Couldn't risk you waking up and slicing my throat."

She gingerly touched her injured side. "That's faulty logic."

"It worked, didn't it?"

The horse was still as they approached. This was the closest Melody had ever been to an animal, and up close the massive beast was equal parts beautiful and terrifying. It stood taller than her, taller even than the grounder that rode it. Its coat was as black as night, silky and gleaming against the sunlight. Its eyes watched Melody as they both waited while the grounder dug through the pack strapped across its back.

"Aha!" Exclaimed the grounder when he found what he was looking for.

Not making the mistake of underestimating her resourcefulness again, the grounder bound Melody's hands with a thick strip of rope. His fingers worked quickly, tying an intricate knot that Melody didn't recognize. When it was knotted, he knotted it again for good measure. Melody pulled against the restraints, testing the waters, but as expected they didn't budge. After a few seconds her wrists were left hot and tingling; rope burn.

When her wrists were secured the grounder trailed his hands quickly down her body, poking and prodding and patting. Disarming her. There was nothing to find until his hands traveled along the length of her belt, where her knife hung. Melody clenched her jaw tightly as he took and discarded the weapon. .

"Just the knife?" He arched a brow disbelievingly.

Melody hesitated.

After a long moment she said, "My bow." She jerked her head towards the recurve bow that leaned against a nearby tree.

"Ah yes." The grounder reached for it. "How could I forget the bow?" He gave it only the shortest of glances before slinging it over his own back. The quiver soon followed.

Melody seethed with rage.

Without her weapons, she felt naked. Exposed. Her fingers itched to reach out and take the bow from him, but she knew that it would be a mistake. There was no way she would get it away from him. And if she _did_ , he would still have the quiver and her arrows. No, the only reason she'd pointed it out to him was to make sure that it didn't get left behind. The mere thought made her chest ache with longing. Better it be on the back of a grounder than lost among the thick vegetation lining the forest floor, never to be seen again.

"Well then." He looked around at her little makeshift camp, searching for anything else of value but there wasn't anything left. "Are we ready?"

"Ready for _what_?"

"I'm taking you to Polis." Said the grounder. When she stared at him blankly he added, "To my commander."

"Your commander? Why?"

It didn't make sense. After the evens that transpired in the woods, Melody would have thought he'd be eager to end her life. Now he was just going to hand her over and give someone else the pleasure?

"There's a bounty on Sky People."

Melody paused.

A bounty.

"Dead or alive?" She had a feeling she knew the answer, but asked anyways.

"Alive."

That alone explained why she was still breathing.

And maybe it meant that some of the others had been spared, too.

Melody didn't have time to consider the possibilities. The grounder grabbed her around the middle and lifted her up, setting her down sideways on the horse's back. The animal stamped its feet impatiently and shifted from side to side. Melody lurched forward and barely managed to balance herself out again to avoid falling. Much to her surprise, the grounder didn't use a saddle; she soon realized that he didn't need one. He slid swiftly and smoothly onto the horse's back in one fluid motion, making it look easy.

"Ready?" He gripped the reins.

She nodded.

"To polis!" His knees dug into the animal's sides and the stallion responded. It reared its head and then shot forward, taking off at a run.

X

They rode all morning, until the hot afternoon sun was beating directly overhead. Melody spent the entire time lost within herself, thinking of the people she'd left behind and of the uncertain future that awaited her. She figured that something like this would happen eventually. There were a thousand grounders to her one. Of course she would get caught. But she had lasted a lot longer than the odds would have predicted, given the circumstances. She'd made it two weeks, maybe more. The days all blurred together now, so she couldn't really be sure.

What was Polis? And who was this commander that he spoke of? It couldn't have been Anya; he led them even further away from camp and away from where _trikru_ dwelled. They ventured away from the heart of the forest and into a place where the trees grew thin and the sky opened up overhead. It had never occurred to Melody that there might be an end to this forest, or that there might be _more_ beyond it. Just how much of the Earth was really habitable?

She rode with her feet dangling over the side of the horse, her bound wrists in her lap. The reins went over her head, trapping her in between them with no means for escape and no opportunity to be thrown off of the horse. On either side of her was a muscular forearm, drawn taut to keep control of the horse. Even if she wanted to escape, she couldn't. And even if she could have, where would she go with bound wrists and no weapons? She'd be dead before the day was over.

When the grounder led his horse to water he left Melody sitting underneath a shady tree in the small clearing. She sat with her knees drawn to her chest and her hands resting in her lap. Sweat dribbled down her forehead and dripped off the tip of her nose. Her hair was hot and heavy against her neck and her shoulders, caked in mud and leaves and sweat. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes, resting against the tree. Who knew when she would have the chance again?

 _"Strikon_ , _"_ The grounder was back, and looking down at her with a scowl. He extended his arm and offered her a freshly filled canteen. "Drink."

"My name isn't _strikon_." She said simply. "I don't even know what that means. Is it even a real word?"

"In my language, _strikon_ means 'little one.'" He explained. "Now, _drein daun_. Drink."

She was too thirsty to refuse. The water was cool against her tongue and it soothed her parched throat. Melody drank until the ache was gone, and then she turned her face away from the light stream that the grounder poured from the bottle. He capped it and returned it to the horse's saddle bag. Then, he came to sit next to Melody.

He rested with his elbows folded atop of bent knees. Melody snuck a sideways glance at him, observing her captor for the first time. He was tall and broad, muscular like all the other warriors she'd seen and with the same olive-toned skin. His hair was jet black and slicked away from his face, woven into a braid that hung halfway down his back. The hair on his face was thick, but shaven on the sides to form a goatee. If he wasn't a grounder, he might be handsome. His features were too sharp, his eyes too cold and his demeanor too sullen, but there was a certain sort of ruggedness -something all grounders possessed- that might appeal to someone he _wasn't_ holding captive.

"You're staring." He didn't even glance at her as he spoke.

"I am not." Her gaze snapped back towards the horse and the river. Her cheeks flushed and she loathed the smirk on his face with every fiber of her being.

"You were, too."

"So what if I was?" She challenged, looking at him openly now. "Is looking a crime?"

"Of course not. Besides, I never say I minded." He shrugged and looked away, that damned grin was still on his face.

She snorted. "Don't flatter yourself."

Was he _flirting_ with her, after everything that had happened between them? Did he really think that she would find him charming after he'd carved her up and kidnapped her? What was wrong with the male species? Had years of nuclear and solar radiation burnt holes in their brains? It was amazing that once upon a time, they'd been believed the superior race.

Melody's mind wandered towards a similar situation that she'd found herself in before, and her heart ached. In Bellamy's tent, during those first few weeks on Earth. Right after they'd lost Charlotte. He'd had a gleam in his eye and a smirk on his face. He'd almost kissed her that night, Melody _knew_ he would have, and so she'd bitten him. A knee-jerk reaction.

 _I should have let him,_ she thought.

She wouldn't ever have the chance again. And she blamed the man sitting in front of her, at least partly. His people had taken everything from her. They'd taken every _one._ All the playful banter in the world wouldn't make her forget that.

 _You shouldn't be humoring him anyways,_ said a small voice in the back of her mind. _Your friends are dead and you're fraternizing with the enemy._

"Well, why were you looking then?"

"You have tattoos." Said Melody with a shrug as she looked away.

She hoped the conversation would end there. It was the first excuse that popped into her head, and he really _did_ have tattoos so it was viable. Tattoos were something that wasn't allowed on The Ark, because resources couldn't be wasted for recreation. She'd only ever seen tattoos one other time, on Lincoln's chest and his arms. Someone who realized this might have understood and dismissed her supposed curiosity about the markings, but not _this_ grounder.

"And you have red hair." He said simply, turning his head to give her a droll look. "Are we done stating the obvious?"

"Tattoos aren't allowed where I come from."

"The sky?"

"The _Ark._ " She rolled her eyes and gave a heavy sigh. "It's a space station. _Was_ a space station. It used to be my home and there were rules...lots of rules."

He was quiet for a moment. "And on this... _Ark_ , you couldn't have markings?"

Melody laughed bitterly. "We couldn't have much of anything."

"Why?"

"It was a waste of resources." She shrugged. "Everything had to be recycled. We didn't have what you have down here. It was a limited supply."

Her gaze remained locked on the horse. It bent its neck low, lips in the water. This river wasn't like the first one she'd experienced. It was long and thin, stretching so far that Melody couldn't see it past a certain point in the trees. It had running water that trickled through rather than a large pool. It was shallow. It reminded her of the little river in the woods near camp, the one they crossed when they were looking for Jasper.

Melody winced. She didn't like to think their names if she could help it, but she had no control over her fleeting thoughts. The familiar pang of longing tore at her heart, threatening to suffocate her. For a moment she forgot how to breathe. Tears pooled in her eyes and Melody blinked them back, refusing to let them fall.

 _ **I**_ _am apache,_ she told herself.

As quickly as her strength lapsed it recovered. Melody cleared her mind. She basked in the sun's warm glow and tried to forget herself. It would have been much easier if she wasn't being watched. The grounder sat beside her, a foot or two away, and his gaze was unabashed as he stared at her. It made Melody's skin tingle. She knew he'd been watching and she knew he was still staring because he was waiting for her to break, even if he didn't know the exact reasons behind her sudden change in demeanor.

Well, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

She turned her head to look at him, brows drawn together. "What?"

He didn't say anything. He was looking at her with a darkened expression, but he wasn't angry. He looked almost thoughtful. Did she detect pity in his gaze? Before Melody even realized what he was doing, he reached out to touch her. His fingertips brushed against her cheekbone and Melody flinched.

"Don't touch me." She spat.

He withdrew his hand slowly. "I'm sorry." He made a circular motion with his hand. "For your face."

Melody clenched her jaw. She was trying to forget about her face. The last time she'd looked at it, it was perfectly in tact. Pale skin, freckled cheekbones, green eyes; not a single blemish in sight. And now...now it was mutilated. Thanks to _him._ Sorry didn't do anything for her. Maybe it was vain to care so much about appearance, but Melody didn't care. She was vain. She was flawed.

She was _human._

"I hope you didn't think we were having a moment." Melody said coolly. "You're still a grounder. And I still hate you for what you've done to me."

He laughed. "And you're still a sky girl. The only thing that's changed is the situation we find ourselves in. I'm not trying to have a _moment_ with you, _strikon._ Just because I'm a warrior, that doesn't make me a _monster._ I can separate myself from the man behind the sword.""

Bellamy's voice echoed in the back of her mind. _Who we are and who we need to be to survive are very different things._

Melody looked away.

She didn't want to think of him as a person, as a son or a brother or a husband. She didn't want to think of the village he came from and the role he played there. When she looked at him, she didn't want to see anything other than the monster she'd met in battle. She _couldn't._ When their journey came to an end and they reached Polis, he would hand her over to the commander. He might not swing the sword, but he was still the one killing her.

"My name is Koda, by the way." He said absently. "Just in case you thought it was 'grounder.'"

And now he had a name. It made it harder to think of him as a savage. Harder, but not impossible. Melody still remembered the bite of the blade and the sinister sound of his laughter. She focused on that, not the side of him she was seeing now. It was a false front, something to be put up right before he handed her over to be slaughtered.

What, did he think that this made them friends? Did he think she was just going to come along peacefully now because he'd apologized and told her his name? That wasn't how life worked. It wasn't how _Melody_ worked. Grudges weren't forgiven easily, and when it came to _Koda_ they wouldn't be forgiven at all unless she developed some sort of stockholm syndrome.

But Melody knew how to pick and choose her battles.

"You're right; we're not in battle anymore. You're not the man behind the sword and I'm not the girl holding the bow. Not now." She shook her head slowly. "My name is Melody. In case you thought I was just 'sky girl.'"

" _Melodi_ ," He repeated, in his rough native language that sounded so harsh to Melody's ears. " _Meika's slak,_ _Melodi kom skai kru._ "

"No." The little bit of grounder language she'd retained from hearing it spoken by both Koda and Lincoln clarified the second half of the second sentence. _Melody of the sky people._ That's not who she was, not anymore. " _Melodi kom_ ground."

" _Melodi kom graun._ " He echoed. "It's nice to properly meet you."

Melody looked over at him thoughtfully, his words echoing in her ears.

 _Melody of the ground._

That was exactly who she was. The ground was her home. The ground was her _birth right._

The ground would be _hers,_ even if getting it killed her.

Even if she had to kill to get it.

Even if she had to kill _him_.

Taking a page right out of John Murphy's handbook, she smiled and extended her hand towards Koda.

"It's nice to meet you, too."


	4. Chapter 4

hi, I'm myxsweetxobsessions and I provide basic bitch chapters to my loving fanbase.

Forgive the length and the rustiness of my writing, but enjoy our boy. I've missed him.

(psa: this will probably be majorly edited when my muse cools down, but for now I had to get it out)

* * *

" _Melody!"_

Bellamy jolted upright, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath. His anxious gaze scanned the length of the room desperately, searching, but he was alone. The room was dark and quiet, empty aside from himself and the makeshift bed in which he lay.

For a few moments he sat there in a sort of drunken stupor, clinging to the foggy, sleep-laden images that were quickly fading from his memory. Her face; her eyes bright and alert, her smile warm. The sound of his name on her lips. The touch of her fingertips against his cheek. It had all felt so real…

Bellamy swallowed thickly and closed his eyes.

 _Just a dream_ , He told himself as he sank back into the safety of his bed.

With one hand he slicked back the sweaty, matted mess of curls that he called hairand with the other he rubbed his face roughly. _Just a dream_ , he thought again. _Just a dream._

It wasn't the first time he'd dreamt of her.

It wouldn't be the last.

A glance towards the window revealed that the sun was just beginning to rise. Bellamy tried to calculate how many hours of sleep he'd gotten. The answer was the same as always: _not nearly enough._ Most days he ran on nothing more than sheer determination. How he hadn't collapsed yet was a mystery, but it was also the last thing on Bellamy's mind.

Right now, his only concern was finding his friends. Finding _her._

His muscles screamed in protest as Bellamy hauled himself into an upright position. He rested a few moments with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. Another hand through his hair, another rough rub across three days' worth of stubble. A splash of cold water against his face in the hopes of waking up some.

Alright, time to get it together.

First came a freshly laundered (if you could call run through a cold stream and beaten with rocks 'laundered) beige teeshirt, followed up with his guard jacket. It had earned him more than a few dirty looks from his fellow citizens of the Ark, and even more from the actual guardsmen. It was funny how something as simple as an article of clothing could instill such loathing. They regarded him almost as if an imposter, a snake wearing a human skin. Not that Bellamy really gave a damn what any of them thought, of course.

 _It was good being king_ , he thought with a smirk.

But really, what was a king without followers?

 _Lonely,_ said a small voice in the back of his mind. _Useless._

The early-morning trek through camp wasn't as solitary as you might think. Tensions were running high, and Bellamy wasn't the only one suffering from a lack of sleep. If anything, he was one of the lucky ones.

Over the last week a lot of things had changed. Clarke had returned to the camp after escaping from a place called "Mount Weather." It was the bunker they'd been sent to find, the landing site that had been programmed into their dropship. It was intact, hidden underground on the other side of the forest just past the unspoken border where Jasper had been speared during their first few days on Earth. Unlike they'd originally thought, though, it wasn't meant to be their saving grace; it was proving to be their undoing. Or trying its damndest, anyways.

A good portion of their people had been relocated to the Mountain, and according to Clarke they were being used for experimentation. Something about their blood being good for the mountain people or whatever. A grand escape plan was already in progress, but there were a lot of steps between here and Mount Weather. The grounders were one thing, but these people were a whole other. Right now they were doing little more than biding their time and it was driving Bellamy absolutely insane.

And _no,_ Clarke had informed him the moment they'd reunited, Melody wasn't there.

"Thinking hard, or hardly thinking?"

Bellamy turned with a start. He hadn't heard Raven approaching, and yet there she stood. Well, the term 'stood' was pretty optional nowadays – the surgery had removed the bullet in her spine, but it hadn't restored basic motor function to her leg. She put on a brave face about it, but he knew Raven. A brilliant mind trapped inside of a lame body would never be enough for her, even if she pretended it was.

"Just…thinking." He said slowly, turning to face her.

"About Melody." It wasn't a question. Her lips quirked slightly when she said it, the faintest traces of a sad smile.

The last thing Bellamy wanted was her pity. He didn't want anyone thinking that all he did was sit around pining all day for a lost almost-love. What kind of leader would he be, then? The welfare of _all of his people_ weighed heavily on his mind, not just that of a certain redheaded pain in his ass.

Although she took up a good portion of his daytime thoughts, too.

"I'm thinking about _everyone._ " Bellamy's voice was harder than it should have been. "They're all stuck in that godforsaken mountain, going through God knows what. I'm sick of sitting around, waiting for them to outlive their use. If I was calling the shots-"

"But you're not." Said Raven shortly. She wasn't in much of a sit-around-and-contemplate-what-ifs sort of mood these says. "Abby and Kane are in charge now."

"But I'm not." He agreed, a tic in his jaw. "Maybe it's better that way."

"Oh?" She arched a brow at him in surprise. "The King doth protest?"

Bellamy wasn't in a joking mood. "Oh, come on Raven. Look at the mess I've made of everything. All the people who have died because of me."

"For you."

Bellamy's head snapped to the side, gaze dark. "What?"

"They didn't die _because of you_. They died for you. There's a difference."

A sick sense of déjà vu threatened to overwhelm him, and suddenly he was in a different place. In a different time. With a different woman.

* * *

 _"They'll fight for us." Melody uttered the words softly and her eyes fastened themselves upon one of the men who was dutifully keeping watch on the wall, gun in hand. "They'll fight for you." Her eyes flickered towards him as she spoke._

 _"They'll die for me." Argued Bellamy, who was perplexed about the whole situation. Here he was, the king, yet he could do nothing more than sit back and watch his people die a grizzly death at his expense. All because he'd trained them to be his little soldiers. Because he had chosen to rule with fear rather than kindness. Because he didn't know when to leave well enough alone. "They'll die because of me."_

 _"Don't flatter yourself." She said, the words tumbling out of her mouth before Melody had a chance to think better of it._

 _Bellamy's eyes narrowed slightly and he turned his head sharply, piercing her with an irritated glower. "Excuse me?"_

 _"You heard me. I said they would fight_ for _you, Bellamy. They'll fight for you because they respect you, because they trust you to lead them to victory."_

 _"And if I can't do that?" He wondered. "If I can't lead them to victory?"_

 _"Then maybe they will die. But their deaths won't have been for you. And they certainly won't have been because of you." Melody stared up at him firmly, unwilling to coddle Bellamy yet reluctant to argue with him. "This is our home now, Bellamy. Ours. And none of us are going to give it up without a fight. So, yeah, they'll fight for you...but they'll die for this." She said, sweeping her arms out and gesturing towards their little camp, their little home. "For their freedom."_

 _"Don't you get it?" He asked, as if somehow by saying these words he could share his thoughts will her, he could make her 'get it.' As if he could somehow explain to her that no matter what happened, they were his people and their fates would ultimately reside in his hands. "It all falls back on me. Everything falls back on me. Whether they live, whether they die, whether they're remembered or forgotten. Maybe they won't die for me, but they will die. And it'll be because I asked them to fight in the first place. It all comes back to me. I'm their leader, Melody."_

 _"Then stop your whining and lead them."_

* * *

"Not for me." Bellamy shook his head. "For this." He gestured out at the vast expanse of empty, green fields that stretched in miles all around them. Their home. "They died for this. For their freedom, for their right to _live._ "

"Exactly." Raven nodded, watching him curiously. "You can't give up on them now. Not after everything we've been through. Don't make it have been in vain."

"You're right." He muttered, returning the nod. "It's time to be the leader they need."

"Now we're talking."

A few minutes of silence passed between the two of them. It wasn't uncomfortable, wasn't awkward. Raven was one of the few people who didn't sugarcoat things for him. She told him the truth whether he wanted to hear it or not. Maybe she was a little bit of an asshole, but Bellamy supposed that's what had drawn him to her in the first place.

Wasn't that just the story of his life?

"She's out there, you know." Raven said softly, glancing out towards the tree line. "There isn't a doubt in my mind."

"It's been two weeks, Raven." His voice was hollow – it had to be. _He_ had to be, if he wanted to make it through the day. "You're smarter than that."

" _She's_ smarter than that." Argued Raven. "If anyone can make it out there, it's her."

Bellamy wanted to tell her to stop, stop fueling false hopes. As if he didn't already have enough. And yet he couldn't bring himself to do so. As much as his logical side told him to dismiss her thoughts and move on, there was a part of him that held onto the hope that she was right. That Melody would come waltzing through the gates any day now.

That she'd find her way back to him.

"She's tough." He agreed reluctantly, an affectionate smile curving his lips as he watched the forest's edge once more. "God knows I've put her through the ringer."

And wasn't that an understatement.

He wished he could take it back; wished he could retract every single ounce of pain he'd ever caused her. There wasn't a day that went by where he wasn't praying to whatever God might be left to _just bring her home to me._ God, all he needed was a second chance. The lengths he'd go to, just to see her smile. To show her that he could become the man she needed, the man she deserved.

Maybe one day, a man she could love.

The thoughts weren't fleeting, but they were irrational. After everything they'd been through, everything this world had thrown at them – how could he honestly expect to get a happy ending? Or even a mediocre ending?

Besides, second chances were rare, and luck had never been on his side.

"Do you regret it?" Raven glanced up at him, brown eyes intense. "Us?"

It was the first time they'd talked about "it." Closure was needed, he guessed, and that was the only reason Bellamy stopped himself from cutting her off. He didn't deserve to lose the burden of what had happened between the two of them any more than Raven deserved to bear it.

He leveled her stare, refusing to blink. He didn't need to think about the answer to the question; there was no hesitation in his voice when he answered.

"Every goddamn day."

Half a beat of silence followed before Raven nodded. When she spoke, her voice was quiet. "Yeah. Me too."

It seemed only natural for Bellamy to put his arm around her, and for Raven to lean into the touch. There was nothing there – no spark, no emotion, no desire for anything more than a shared moment of sorrow.

They stood like that for a long time, watching the sun rise.


	5. Chapter 5

[Hi guys, sorry for the ridiculously long wait. Between school and a few serious health scares as of late, muse has been pretty low. Excuse my rustiness – I'm re-writing the original story in hopes of getting back into the swing of things, and because I cringe every time I read it. I can't promise regular updates, but for now enjoy our new dynamic duo.]

"The sun is up."

The low, gravelly voice would have woken her if Melody had managed to sleep at all that night. Instead she'd lain awake, back pressed against the trunk of an overgrown tree while the grounder, Koda, slept a few feet away with his back to her. Was he deluded or just stupid? Cocky, maybe – he'd seemed confident that the knot securing her to the tree would hold through the night.

It _had,_ but that wasn't the point.

"And the mutated birds are chirping." Melody retorted, rolling her head backwards so that she could look up at him. She blinked a few times against the rays of sunlight that filtered through the leaves, irritating her already strained eyes. "It's gonna be a good day."

Without saying anything Koda knelt down in front of her and pulled out a hatchet, making quick work of the ropes that were wound around her abdomen. Once he'd tossed the severed rope away, Melody held her bound hands up and tilted her head to the side, giving him a shy, hopeful mile.

He snorted. "Cute."

"I try."

"Up." He grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her abruptly to her feet, causing Melody to stumble forward. "We'll go on foot for a while."

Melody moved forward, one large hand resting upon her shoulder to guide her in the right direction. She shrugged it off and moved forward on her own, bound wrists thumping against her thighs as she walked. She glanced around at the unfamiliar terrain as they walked, wondering how much ground they'd covered and how far they still had to go. Time was lost on her.

"It's a three day ride from where we started." Said Koda, answering her unspoken question. "Going on foot will slow us down a little, but it's easier to lead her through these denser forests." He gave his mare an affectionate pat on the neck. "And harder to be detected."

"Who could _you_ be hiding from?" Melody wondered aloud, stepping lightly over a thick root that was sticking up out of the forest floor.

" _Skaikru_ isn't the only enemy that lives amongst this wood, _strikon_." He glanced around as he said the words, not afraid so much as he was alert. "There are other clans. Animals. Bounty hunters."

It occurred to Melody then that she'd never really considered the possibility of there being _others._ From the time they'd landed on the ground, the people they'd interacted with were all lumped together in the same category - grounders. She knew that Koda's people were called _trikru_ , but she'd never considered the fact that the purpose of the name was to distinguish themselves from others. And she'd never considered the fact that there could be people out there _worse_ than the ones they'd been dealing with…but now, as she watched Koda's alert stance and his shifty gaze, she shivered with anticipation.

It wasn't long before the two of them were walking side by side. Out of the corner of her eye, Melody noticed something that she hadn't yesterday - Koda walked with a limp. It wasn't very pronounced, nor did it seem to slow him down. It couldn't be detected when he was riding horseback or carrying her, but it was there all the same. For a few moments Melody wondered what had happened to him, but then she realized that _she_ had happened to him; an arrow to each knee, in the heat of battle. Something that she couldn't bring herself to regret, even now.

Did it make her heartless? Maybe. It wasn't like she was beaming with pride and reveling in the pain she'd caused. And yet, she struggled to have empathy for a man who had looked her dead in the face and told her that he'd like to take his time torturing her. Koda's words from that day echoed in her ears. _"Such a pretty face, for skaikru…I hate to think that this might leave a scar."_ No, no she couldn't bring herself to feel anything other than _alive_ , which is a whole lot more than she would have been if the situation had been different. There wasn't a doubt in Melody's mind that if she hadn't taken him down, he would have killed her.

They walked through the forest for some time, the sun continuing to rise until it spread its light and warmth to each end of the forest. Small talk wasn't really Melody's forte, and she couldn't think of anyone she'd less like to chat with. Murphy, maybe. When it came to her shit list, he occupied the number one spot. That boy better pray to God that he never crossed her path again, because it would end in bloodshed. Koda was a close second on the list, but they were supposed to be _friendly_ now, and it was a lot easier to be held captive by a man who treated you almost human than by one who didn't. Things could be a lot worse for Melody, and yet she didn't feel even the tiniest bit thankful to be graced with present company.

It few hours after starting out that they stopped to have a light breakfast. Leftover meat from the night before, mixed with a handful of berries and some sort of stale cracker-like cakes that he kept in his saddlebag. They were creekside again, sitting side by side in the grass before the steady stream of running water with which Koda re-filled the canteen.

"You know, I can't even tell if you're scowling anymore underneath that layer of grime." Koda chided. He glanced sideways, taking in her ragged appearance, and Melody puffed out her chest.

"It gives me character."

"It gives you _infection._ "

She shrugged her shoulders. "Tit for tat."

"You should really wash your wounds. Who knows what's growing underneath all of that filth." For a man who lived in a hole in the ground, he sounded pretty judgmental.

 _Oh I'm sorry_ , she thought bitterly. _Please, don't let my war-ravaged appearance bother you ._

What she said was, "I'll be dead in a few days anyways."

"A few _hours_ , if you keep going this way."

Wouldn't that be something? God, it gave her a sick sense of satisfaction to think about an infection doing her in before any of them could. "In that case, give my regards to the commander."

"That's not an option." His tone was authoritative, and she knew that he was thinking of the bounty. It reminded her that no matter how friendly he may try to seem, no matter how bearable he tried to make their travels, he was still the one in charge here. When he said jump, she was supposed to ask how high.

That sort of dynamic had never really worked for her, but Melody knew that now wasn't the time to see how far she could push him. The wounds he talked about, they were all testaments to the kind of man that Koda was trained to be. No matter how hard he tried to put up a friendly front, Melody couldn't quite bring herself to separate him from the man behind the sword. Despite the fact that they'd supposedly put their differences aside the afternoon before, she'd be an idiot to trust him. She couldn't get comfortable. After all, he _was_ about to turn her over to be slaughtered.

Nevertheless, she struggled to her feet. They stared at one another for a few moments before Melody gave him a droll stare. "Are you expecting me to do this with my hands tied."

It apparently hadn't occurred to him. There was a few beats of silence as Koda contemplated before saying, "You'll run."

Smart man. It seemed that she wasn't the only one who didn't trust their newfound friendship. Melody had half a mind to bring that up to him, but she decided against it. Why rock the boat now? What was the point? She had to play nice, had to bide her time until she could figure out some way to gain the upper hand.

Well, or until they executed her.

"You have my bow. You have my knife." She pointed out, nodding towards the weapons that were stored on the horse's back. "I can run, but I've got short legs and nowhere to go."

Her words seemed to convince him. Koda cut through the ropes that bound her hands, tossing it away. The look he gave her almost made Melody shiver. "Don't do anything brave, sky girl."

Was flipping him off considered to be brave? Melody wondered this as she turned away from him and slowly approached the shallow water. The glance she gave it as she toed out of her combat boots was doubtful at best, and her first encounter with water on Earth was playing over in her mind. The image of Octavia being dragged beneath the water made her pulse quicken, the irrational fear something she'd never really had to conquer before now.

"Slay your demons." Melody murmured to herself, but her voice broke a little.

"Hmm?" Koda called from his seat by the waterside.

"Nothing."

Her chest tightened with fear, but Melody pushed it down and began to undress. Her insides knotted with uncertainty as she shed her clothing, wishing then for even an ounce of Octavia's confidence. To be so exposed around anyone, especially a stranger, took a lot of courage – when in the presence of an enemy, it took something even more than courage. She could feel his eyes on her, burning holes into her back and causing her stomach to coil anxiously. In a rush, Melody peeled away every last grimy layer of clothing until she was standing there in nothing but her tank top and underwear, the mid-morning sun beating down on her bare skin.

The first hesitant steps into the water were the worst. It was cold despite the beaming sunshine, almost icy to the touch. It rushed over her skin and gave her goosebumps which soon had Melody's teeth chattering. The further she moved into the water the more she wished she'd ignored Koda's suggestion and let the infection take her. Glancing over her shoulder at Koda, Melody glowered.

The grounder fought back a smirk as he called out, "What's wrong, sky girl?"

"It's cold."

"I'm sorry," He said, but he wasn't – there was an impish gleam in his eye.

She waded out further, the cold water rising up to her knees. That was all she could handle for now, and it was when Melody dropped to her knees and began to rinse off the sweat and grime that had accumulated over the last few weeks. The rush of the water was icy, but bearable and after a while it even began to feel refreshing. She took her time rubbing at her exposed skin, and it occurred to her that she couldn't remember the last time she'd washed her hair, her clothes, anything.

"Here," Once again it was as if Koda had somehow sensed what he was thinking. "Catch."

A chunk of something came flying towards her head and Melody reached out to grab it at the last second, the object nearly slipping through her fingers. She glanced down at the wax-like substance in her hands and realized after a few moments that it was soap. She brought it to her nose and inhaled, closing her eyes at the intoxicating floral scent. Soap, actual _soap._ When she looked up again, she noticed that Koda was watching her with furrowed brows.

"The sky doesn't have soap?"

"The sky has everything the ground doesn't." Said Melody. "And the ground has everything the sky could never begin to hope for."

"That doesn't make sense."

"It doesn't have to." At least not to him, because to Melody it made perfect sense.

She waded deeper into the water now, until only her head was above the surface. Her chest tightened with the cold and with long-suppressed fear, but Melody pushed it down as she pulled her tanktop over her head and laid it on a nearby boulder to dry in the sun. The ridiculousness of the situation didn't escape her. If a month ago you'd told her she'd be naked and exposed in front of anyone, least of all while in the presence of a grounder ally, she'd probably have shot you.

The soap wasn't like what she was used to. It didn't foam and bubble quite the same way, it left residue behind on her skin. But it was _soap_ , and that was enough for Melody. She washed her body several times over, delighting in the lingering scent that clung to her skin. She felt fresh, clean, and although it was a small comfort it was one she reveled in. Working the lather through her hair was another story entirely – it was impossible. Weeks of build-up in the form of dirt and twigs and leaves and sweat and whatever else had complied left her once vibrant red mane laying lifeless and limp against her back. No matter how many times she rinsed and repeated, it was impossible to get her fingers through the strands.

With a soft sigh of frustration, Melody turned to say something to Koda, only to stop in surprise. Bent over the bank, the grounder was scrubbing furiously at her clothing with another bar that closely resembled the one he'd given her. His brows were drawn together as he worked the fabric through his fingers over and over again, working out the dirt. It pulled at something deep inside of her, causing a frown tugged at Melody's lips as she watched him. She wondered why he was putting so much effort into this; it wasn't just because he was a nice guy. In fact, he was quite the opposite. Obviously he didn't value her comfort – he must just want to present her as a prize, not a health hazard, she rationalized.

When Koda glanced up and noticed her watching him, he paused. "Alright?"

"My hair." Explained Melody weakly, looking away. His actions were too easily mistaken for consideration, and it made her uncomfortable. "It's ruined."

"Here," He wrung out her jeans and laid them in the grass to dry. With two fingers he beckoned her forward. "Let me see."

She hesitated, but Koda was shedding his own teeshirt and he held it out, head turned away from her. It was almost respectful, and once again it had feelings stirring inside of Melody. She knew that they had no place there, and yet…she was almost charmed. He was almost the kind of person she could like and in another life, maybe they could have been friends. But this wasn't another life – this was their life, and right now it was _her_ life on the line.

Melody emerged from the water and snatched up the dark grey teeshirt, sliding it over her head. It clung to her wet body in some places, but bagged in most – he was massive. The shirt was warm and it smelled like him; earthy, masculine. The sensation was foreign and yet so familiar that it could have brought her to her knees. Bittersweet memories of Jasper's baggy clothing surfaced, and she pushed them away as quickly as they came.

"My hair." Melody said again, knowing that if she didn't say something she'd find herself fighting back tears.

Koda turned towards her and his browns furrowed once more. "I'm more concerned about your face." He moved forward quickly, taking her face into his hands and tilting her chin back.

Melody's breath caught in her throat. The closeness was too much; she felt vulnerable, overpowered. She wanted to pull away, but his prodding fingers produced a tenderness and she momentarily forgot her discomfort. "Ouch!"

"Infection." Said Koda, shaking his head angrily. "You should have taken care of it."

"Oh, _excuse me_." She snapped out, jerking her chin out of his grasp. "Between the war waging on my front lawn and my friends dying around me, I didn't really have time to think about the goddamn infection. Which, by the way, is thanks to _you._ "

He was silent for a few long moments before saying, "It's bad. I'm going to have to drain it."

"Like hell!" She brought her fingertips to her cheek reflexively and winced.

"Melody, our blades are _poisoned._ " He reminded her. "By the time I got to you, most of it had probably been rubbed off…but it was enough to give you a nasty infection. If you don't let me care for it, you _are_ going to die."

"Let me die." There was no defiance in her tone when she said it; the words were raw, full of emotion even as she remained stoic.

"I can't." He shook his head almost regretfully. "You know that."

"Funny, a few weeks ago you had no problem doing it. If I remember correctly, you wanted to savor it."

He winced. "That was an act of war."

"And this is what? An act of mercy?" She laughed humorlessly. "Either way I wind up gutted on the floor, and you walk away happy."

"This doesn't make me _happy._ " He snapped out, leaning towards her. "I don't enjoy killing people, Melody – I'm a soldier. I do it to protect my home, my _kru_. The same as you."

She shook her head, not able to muster up the words to explain their many differences to him. All she said was, "If you think we're the same, you're fooling yourself."

Koda shrugged his massive shoulders, unbothered. "Either way, that infection needs to be taken care of."

"If you cut me, you'd better make it count." Was all she said.

He did.

One second they were facing off and in the next Melody was pinned to the ground, his full weight on top of her. As big as he was, he moved with frightening speed. Koda tucked her arms against her side, held down by his surprisingly bony knees, and pulled a knife off of his belt. One hand pressed down against her shoulder, holding her down, and the other positioned the blade against her temple.

"Well," Melody panted beneath his weight. "I guess that's that."

"Sorry about this."

He dragged the blade more quickly across her face this time around, taking no delight in watching as the blood and infection spilled out. Melody bit back a scream, the pain ten times more intense than it had been the first time. Her stomach clenched, her fists balled at her side, but there was nothing she could do. Thankfully the whole process lasted for less than a minute, and as soon as the blood ran red Koda was climbing off of her.

"Here." He handed her a strip of cloth to stop the bleeding.

Melody held it tightly against her cheek, jaw clenched.

"And this," He handed her a little vial. It was vaguely familiar and somehow she knew exactly what to do with the liquid inside.

Once the infection was drained and the antidote to the poison was in her system, the two of them stood there staring at one another. Koda wasn't really looking at her, though. His dark gaze trailed from the roots of her hair to the tips, which normally hung just above her hips; everything was so matted that now, it barely reached the small of her back. Melody couldn't even see the back of her head, but she could feel the weight of her hair and when she brushed her fingers against it, the crassness. Caring for it was already hard enough down here, but while on the run? Her long longs had been neglected, and now she was paying the price.

"I have oil." Said Koda slowly, and her attention turned towards his hair. He wore it long and thick, slicked back away from his face in a braid.

Melody sighed. "But it won't work, will it?"

He hesitated. "I can try to –"

"Cut it off." She interrupted.

"What?"

"Cut. It. Off." Repeated Melody slowly.

"Melody, I don't know if-"

Faster than he could anticipate, she reached out with her free hand and tore her scrapmetal knife from around his waist, holding it between them. The weight of it was heavy in her hand, comforting. Koda froze, staring down at her with hardened black eyes and an expressionless face. His fingers twitched towards the hatched on his other side, and for a few seconds they were caught in a wordless battle.

"Please." She turned the knife handle first and handed it to him, glancing down. "Just cut it."

Surprised, he stared hard at her and the knife before accepting it. "Okay."

Melody turned her back on him. Stupid, maybe, for someone who had just handed a knife over to a known killer, but she was confident he wouldn't do anything to hurt her. The bounty was too great, otherwise she would have been dead long before now. And if he wanted to kill her, she'd already be laying in halves on the ground.

The first cut was the worst. The long lock of hair fell to her feet and Melody held back a cry. Why, she wondered, did it feel like he was cutting off a part of her very soul, her identity? It was just hair, she knew that. But her hair had always been a marker of her, her fiery spirit and temper. It made her unique, it made her stand out in the crowd. As tough as she wished she was, Melody was a creature of vanity the same as everyone else, and she felt a pang of longing for the girl she'd been before all of this.

By the time Koda had finished the cut was surprisingly even, and she wondered just how many times he'd done this before. There was a little more life in her hair now that the dead parts had been cut loose. It fell just above her shoulders.

"How do I look?" She asked dryly, looking at her hair that littered the ground.

"You look…good."

"Yeah, right." She scoffed.

"You do."

Melody searched for any sort of humor in Koda's tone, but couldn't detect anything. "I'm bleeding and bald. There's nothing good about that."

"It suits you." He shrugged his shoulders. "You look like…one of us. Like you belong on the ground."

"You gonna recruit me now?" She joked bitterly, looking up at him with a smug smirk.

"Almost." He reached into his bag and withdrew another small, glass vial. He poured a little bit of it out and then rubbed it into her hair, starting at the roots and working his way down to the tips. By the time the oil had been worked through, the hair was silky smooth and his fingers glided through it easily.

Melody expected it to end there, but then Koda's fingers were at work again. They moved surely, graceful, as he weaved her hair into two separate braids down either side of her head. When he'd finished, he pulled out a long, bloodstained ribbon.

"Hey!" She reached out and grabbed it from his hands. A long glance confirmed what she thought – it was Octavia's red ribbon, blood stained and a little frayed, but undoubtedly the same ribbon. "Where did you get this?"

"It fell out of your hair." Said Koda with a simple shrug. "I used it to bind my wound."

That was…well, kind of gross. And yet somehow it felt right, like it was meant to be – the ribbon had found its way back to her. Through everything that had happened, it somehow had wound up in her hands once again. Something strange to get choked up about, but Melody found her eyes flushed with tears anyways.

"May I?" He took the ribbon back and used it to secure the two braids together, at the base of her neck.

"Give me some of your war paints and no one will ever know the difference." Joked Melody, secretly grateful for the light, clean feeling that this whole ordeal had provided her with.

"You don't need war paints." He reached out and gingerly took the cloth strip from her hand, peeling it away from the wound. It had closed, a jagged red line in its place. "Perfect – you've never looked more like a warrior." And then awkwardly, nervously, he reached out and tucked the short red braids behind her ears.

It was as good a compliment as any, and somehow the perfect thing to say to her in that moment.

"I _am_ a warrior." She said, the words firm and holding a warning undertone.

The smile that Koda gave her had her stomach in knots, and for a few seconds she had some semblance of decency; she felt bad for him.

If only he knew what she was planning.


End file.
